Through The Ashes

39

The usual morning activity took place—people collecting firewood, Javier and Emma preparing breakfast, Silas, Gareth, and Del checking the gates and fences. But there was something different in the air today, something that caught everyone's attention.

Jorn paused in the middle of sharpening her knife, frowning slightly as she heard a series of high-pitched shouts and laughter. She glanced up, her brow furrowing as she saw a group of kids running around, wooden swords raised high, their faces scrunched in mock seriousness as they imitated a battle stance.

"What the..." Jorn muttered under her breath, straightening up to get a better look.

There were at least four of them, maybe five. Each kid had something random draped around their necks—old towels, scarves, or strips of cloth that hung loosely over their shoulders, fluttering dramatically as they ran. One of the boys even had a piece of burlap that barely stayed in place as he swung his wooden sword with exaggerated intensity. And each one of them, without fail, was trying to mimic her.

Jorn couldn't help but raise an eyebrow as she recognized the familiar pattern of the poncho she wore—the dark, weathered fabric draped over her shoulders, often catching the wind as she moved. The kids were clearly trying to copy that look, though with much more enthusiasm and much less finesse.

"Now that, is something," she muttered to herself, crossing her arms over her chest.

Mara appeared beside her, catching on to the scene with a broad grin. She stifled a laugh, leaning casually against a stack of crates. "Well, well. Look at you, inspiring the next generation."

Jorn gave her a sideways glance. "You think this is funny?"

Mara raised her hands, feigning innocence. "Hey, you're the one out here looking like the hero of every storybook. It was only a matter of time before the kids started imitating you."

One of the boys, pretending to dodge an imaginary enemy, skidded to a stop near them, his wooden sword raised dramatically over his head. "I am Jorn, the greatest hunter! I fear no Rot!" he shouted before diving back into the fray with the other kids, who whooped and hollered as they fought their invisible foes.

Mara couldn't hold it in anymore—she burst out laughing, her eyes gleaming with amusement as she nudged Jorn with her elbow. "I mean, come on. 'I fear no Rot?' He nailed it. You do have a fan club now, after all."

Jorn groaned, running a hand over her face. "Please, no."

Mara leaned in, a teasing smile still on her lips. "You know, you could maybe add some flair? A couple of feathers in your hair? I'm sure they'd love that."

Jorn shot her a dry look. "I'm not adding feathers."

Mara grinned wider, clearly enjoying herself. "Come on. Feathers, maybe a shiny belt, and one of those huge hats with the wide brim. You'd be unstoppable."

Jorn shook her head, but there was a faint smile tugging at her lips now. She couldn't help it. Mara's laughter was infectious, and the sight of the kids running around like miniature versions of her was absurdly endearing, even if it made her feel a little awkward.

"You know," Mara continued, still chuckling, "they're not half bad. I mean, with the right training, they could—"

Just then, one of the youngest girls tripped on her oversized towel-poncho and went sprawling into the dirt. Her wooden sword clattered beside her as she looked up, startled.

Jorn instinctively moved forward, but before she could say anything, the girl shot to her feet, brushing off the dirt with an exaggerated, stoic expression.